


Lightless

by mojohwrites



Series: Children of Light [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Gen, Mostly Canon Compliant, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mojohwrites/pseuds/mojohwrites
Summary: Perhaps we are meant to pass through fire, so that we may be refined.Wren hasn’t found her Chosen, but not for lack of searching—and as a member of the spectral network, she knew the risks of spying on the Fallen. But when she's accidentally captured, Wren discovers that she'll have to rely on an enemy in order to survive so that maybe she can keep on searching.(Inspired by the story/entry 'From Fallen Ground' from the "Ghost Stories" lore book)
Series: Children of Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819123
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue // Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Ghost thinks about death

The Ghost wondered what happened to Ghosts when they died.

Did they have souls? Would they return to the Traveler? She felt another prod of the intruding system attempting to gain access and she quickly altered that particular subroutine. In response, a deep growl rumbled nearby, which shifted into rasping, grating speech.

There was a pause, maybe for a response. Silence lingered for a few moments until the Archon grunted and forcefully slammed a fist down onto the scanner with a snarl.

Wren was certain the Fallen wanted something from her—otherwise why would they go through all this trouble to hack into her system? Did it want information? Access to the rest of the spectral network? Details about the Vanguard? There were dozens of possibilities—but she wouldn’t crack that easily. Not this Ghost.

Although, she realized nervously, if they were somehow able to brute-force their way in… The Ghost cautiously watched the Fallen return to its methodical search for access to her memory cores. Wren could tell that the creature was growing more frustrated—they had been at this for what seemed like days.

Regrettably, the Ghost had no way of actually knowing exactly _what_ they wanted—for all the yelling and probable threats slung at her earlier, she still couldn’t understand their blasted language.

With another growl the Archon slunk away, leaving the Ghost briefly alone.

She’d attempted earlier to reverse-hack its systems, but this Fallen had been smart and isolated her. She was powerless to do much else, so the Ghost returned to wondering about death.

Heavy footfalls signaled the creature’s approach, but this time accompanied by a low whirring hum. Wren turned her optic toward the door and panicked when she noticed the Servitor. She’d been able to fend off the Fallen’s attempts thus far, but a _Servitor_ was another matter. Luckily she anticipated this possibility—as the two drew closer, the Ghost silently disconnected several cores from her bank and began to encrypt feverishly.

The concept of forgetting had always seemed strange to her. But now she was acutely aware of the gaps slowly spreading across her systems during the process. The Servitor made a low groaning noise and the Archon bristled, returning to the terminal with a growl.

The Ghost took some solace in the angry roar that followed. Those cores were untouchable now, even possibly to herself. She felt pressure as another strange concept presented itself—pain.

Vaguely, disjointedly, she realized it meant that she was probably dying. Darkness crept nearer—Wren could feel the Light within her begin to fade. She wondered again what happened to Ghosts when they died…

And, with a final thought, she grieved for her Chosen, whom she never found.

-:-


	2. Discover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Vandal finds a damaged Ghost

Deep within the hold, past the reclaimed concrete tunnel and banners hanging proudly, a Vandal quietly worked. She sifted through the salvage before her, pulling out certain pieces and organizing them into smaller, neater piles. Some materials would be more useful than others, but most everything could be used somehow. Things constantly needed repair, especially for the Fallen.

This workshop was one of the quieter places in the hold, despite the almost constant buzz of activity of her fellow crewmates. For the moment Iphkras was alone with her work. Muddy water dripped through a crack in the natural ceiling of the space, puddling in the corner.

Another Vandal scuttled past, a small pack of shanks following obediently behind. However, one of the shanks wandered over curiously. She pushed it away with a primary arm and grunted for it to return to the others but it beeped meekly in response. It was one Iphkras had recently repaired—one that had become attached to her despite its simple processing.

The shank’s presence didn’t seem to be immediately missed however, so she allowed it to hover nearby as she returned to work. Using her secondary arm to set aside a partially scorched motherboard for later examination, the Vandal’s hand brushed against a clod of dirt that fell away. 

Grime and dirt were common, as was rust. But underneath the grime shone a brilliant white. Iphkras stared at the swath of brightness for a moment before registering what it could be.

 _«Iirsoveks…»_ she muttered, clicking her mandibles. «I don’t believe it.»

She’d only ever seen them at a distance, but she recognized the color, the distinctive shine of the metal. Carefully extricating it using multiple hands, the Vandal snatched a scrap of cloth from the table to remove the rest of the caked-on dirt. It was a small, dark sphere surrounded by a white, geometric shell.

Iphkras held a Ghost in her hands.

It was obviously dead, crushed somehow, the glass around its core cracked. Iphkras briefly wondered what color the light within might have been. She’d seen a Ghoul once interact with one of these—summoning it with a flick of the wrist. The Ghost had glowed and floated alongside their companion before disappearing to safety. Iphkras had heard they gave the Revenants power—power to destroy and conquer, to even return from death itself. How small and insignificant it looked close up.

She almost dropped it when a pale light softly illuminated its core, then faded. The shank next to her gave an excited beep.

Perhaps it was _not_ dead after all.

Iphkras watched the Ghost for several more minutes, setting it down on the table and noting how the soft light flashed a few times. There was a pattern. Perhaps it had entered some sort of dormant stage?

«Are you finished?» a chittering voice called from behind her.

Iphkras carefully dropped the dingy cloth over the glowing light. She reached for another piece of salvage while doing so, taking it in her primary hands before acknowledging the questioner.

It was Kavrak, a Dreg from the group who brought in today’s haul. «Anything good?» he asked, stepping up to the table, looking at her expectantly. The shank beeped in annoyance as it was forced away and hovered over to a new spot.

«Perhaps, but there is still more to examine» she answered cooly, looking over the piece she held. «Where did you find these materials?»

«Well, most came from the outskirts, but part is from, well, here. From below. The Captain ordered us to clean out the old Archon’s chamber.»

She gave him a cold stare, stopping the Dreg in his tracks.

«I mean, the _revered_ Archon. Also figured we didn’t want anything to go to waste, you see, we thought perhaps some of this could be reused or fixed,» he said nervously, reaching for and holding up a shard that looked like it had once been a hand-blade.

«I see… resourcefulness is useful. It could perhaps earn you full arms someday.»

«That would be an honor.»

«Yes, well…» she deflected, picking up another piece and hissed, «I need to finish. Leave me.»

Kavrak dismissed himself quickly. Mentioning the Archon had resurfaced an old pain, one which she instinctively covered by flexing her superiority. His partially regrown secondary arms reminded her of the consequence of showing weakness. The thought—and painful memories—sent shivers down her spine. She clasped both sets of arms around herself. _Never again._

Haunted briefly by this interlude, Iphkras resumed her work, quickly sorting through the remaining pile of scavenged materials. Eventually she took another cautious peek at the damaged Ghost. The shank began to beep curiously, hovering nearer, but she lightly shoved it away.

She theorized that perhaps the Ghost just needed to be restarted somehow—like a terminal—or given more energy? She wasn’t sure what powered the small beings, but perhaps they were as infinitely complex as the Great Machine itself. Or, if she was lucky, as easily understood as a shank. There was only one way to find out; and, perhaps if she repaired it, she could learn more about the Ghouls their kind clung to. Learn their weaknesses.

Maybe she would even be able to speak to the Great Machine.

She became both nervous and excited at the thought; Iphkras wondered briefly if she should immediately share this find with her Captain. Reexamining the Ghost’s pitiful state though, her heart fell slightly. No, perhaps she would wait. Make sure it is repaired fully, properly—perfectly. Must avoid promising too much and then have to pay the price of failure.

She gently picked up the faded Ghost, tucking it into a bag at her side.

«Don’t worry, I will make you strong again.»

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most dialogue will be in Eliksni and use guillemets: « … »
> 
> ** Eliksni Translations **  
>  _irsoveks_ \- Disbelief, surprise  
> 


	3. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iphkras does what she can to fix the little light; The Ghost discovers what she has lost and gained

Later that evening, once most of the crew had curled up together to sleep, Iphkras carefully pulled the Ghost out from her bag. After several moments it softly flashed, lighting up her corner of the misty den with a pale light. She placed a hand over it and listened to the sounds of her crewmates.

When she was convinced that all were still asleep, the Vandal began to gingerly extricate herself from the tangle of warm bodies. She shivered slightly from the ether-chill then quietly padded down the corridor towards the workshop. Iphkras knew she would perhaps only have a few hours each night to work on these repairs uninterrupted.

Upon closer examination she determined that the outer shell would have to be replaced completely. Iphkras had never encountered a metal like this, and despite her coaxing and prying, each attempt to straighten the crushed fragments failed. The brilliant but shattered shell was _variisis._

There was no shortage of scraps however, so she began designing and crafting a new metal frame that would surround and protect the core. It took several nights of work, and wasn't as precise or elegant as the previous shell—though perhaps that wouldn’t matter. She was even able to replace the cracked glass, using part of a broken scope that was very close in size.

Eventually though Iphkras came to a roadblock. This small machine contained no ports or access points she could connect her terminal to. She scoured the spherical core meticulously, holding it close to her four eyes and observing from every angle. There was nothing.

Luckily this wasn’t the first piece of technology like this she’d encountered, but it did make things more complicated. Her best bet was the skiff—it had more advanced systems than the small terminal in the workshop. Iphkras even had an idea of which station to use, but that’d mean going there herself—and bringing the Ghost with her.

She frowned, folding her secondary arms, and swore quietly.

\- - -

The afternoon sun filtered down into the hollow that was used for docking the crew’s skiff—a partially-concealed space connected to the rest of the hold, formed when the ceiling of the cave collapsed long ago. Ruins of a human structure had been dropped into the space, providing a perfect platform for concealing and docking the ship. 

Iphkras made her way toward the skiff, now that the raiding crew had returned from their latest expedition. She passed them in the corridor: a gaggle of youthful Dregs shrieking with the pleasure of a successful raid, behind them a quieter group—several blood-spattered crewmates nursing injuries.

A small number never appeared. Iphkras whispered a small prayer in honor of their memory, noting there would probably be a burial ceremony later.

The skiff was mostly empty now, the crew having quickly disembarked to rest and resupply. The Vandal glanced around before setting up at one of the stations. The air within the ship was hot and faintly smelled of blood and ether. Iphkras could feel the vibrations of the rumbling engines still cooling down.

From a larger bag slung around her shoulders she retrieved her tools and several pieces of equipment she’d been meaning to bring to the skiff for repair. Everything was carefully arranged into neat piles. 

A slight clang and shuffle of footsteps sounded from above her. Neksis, one of the pilots for this expedition, motioned to Iphkras as he stepped down from the rig. He was a Vandal—though shorter than her—with fully grown secondary arms and a weary look in his eyes.

«More tinkering?»

«Just a few small things,» she replied while setting out the last tool. «I needed the extra tech.»

«Right. While you’re here, would you take a look at the hatch terminal? We took some fire on the way out and I’m worried it’s damaged.»

«Yes, I can inspect that next.»

He patted her back with a primary arm as he passed. «Thanks.»

Iphkras trilled in acknowledgement, then focused on the piece in her hands, extracting some wires to connect to the terminal.

When she was sure the other Vandal was gone, however, she furtively pulled the core of the Ghost out of her small side bag and placed it on the scanner carefully. With its outer shell removed, it was reduced to a simple dark sphere.

«Let’s see if this works.»

* * *

_Darkness._

_A vast sea surrounding her._

_Nothingness._

_But… wait. Some light?_

_Reaching._

_Lines and strands code, foreign at first, but gaining clarity._

_New words. Meaning. Understanding._

_Hope?_

* * *

Perhaps remotely connecting to one of the House’s ketches through the skiff’s mainframe had been a poor idea, Iphkras mused. She was unfamiliar with this remote system, and the data she shifted through was taking longer to parse through than she anticipated. Iphkras stared at the Ghost, tapping a few buttons at the terminal to initiate what she hoped was a startup sequence. 

But there seemed to be no response from the sphere, which continued to pulse with the same soft pattern as before.

Unsure of how to proceed, Iphkras disconnected from the network with a huff and powered down the scanner. Perhaps she would try again later. The Vandal looked over the other pieces of equipment she’d brought with her. Might as well find success _somewhere,_ she thought.

Though she glanced at the Ghost periodically to check for further changes, her focus was drawn towards repairing things she was actually familiar with. Eventually, a particularly complex set of rewiring on a damaged shank unit engrossed her completely. Concentrating on the task at hand, Iphkras didn’t notice the Ghost’s soft light shift and focus into a brighter blue.

Swiveling and moving as if looking around, the little light seemed to stare at her contemplatively, then hurriedly dimmed. 

Toiling with a bit of wire and grumbling under her breath, the Vandal hadn’t noticed the near-silent approach of the hulking figure now crouching behind her. It placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly and turn. She found herself face-to-face with her Captain.

«Iphkras...» he rumbled.

«Greetings, Captain.» she replied, dipping her head low in respect.

Captain Arraksis smelled of battle, his massive form almost twice the size of Iphkras. As he shifted position, the heavy cape fell away to reveal blood and dirt spattered armor and two large shock blades sheathed at his side. The fur on his collar looked burnt. 

He silently surveyed what she had laid out with sharp eyes. «Have you anything new and interesting for me yet, little splicer?»

«Soon.»

«Excellent. Because I expect something»—Arraksis paused—« _worthy_.»

The Captain squeezed her shoulder hard and straightened—he towered over the smaller Vandal at his full height. Arraksis reached out a primary arm towards the scanner and Iphkras immediately froze, holding her breath. The sphere hadn’t blinked in some time; she hoped it wouldn’t draw attention to itself before she was ready.

He inspected the shank unit she’d been repairing, hefting it into the air. She let out the breath slowly, still on edge. The wires dangling from an open hatch at its side twirled as he turned it in his hands. After a while Arraksis set it back down with an unimpressed grunt. Wordlessly, he stalked away, towards the hold as Iphkras silently thanked the Great Machine that he did not notice the sphere lying on the scanner.

* * *

The Ghost waited until the Captain was far away before she snuck a glance at the Vandal nearby. The smaller Fallen watched it leave then resumed its work. It seemed shaken by the encounter.

The Ghost had been amazed to discover that she actually _understood_ the brief conversation—when was Eliksni part of her language sets? Strange new data also now existed in her memory cores, fragments and collections she didn’t recognize. She shuddered slightly in disgust at this invasion. Well, at least awake was better than dead, and knowing what’s being said by the Fallen would be useful. 

But first, she had to find out _where_ she was. The Ghost carefully extended her invisible neural sensors outward, reaching for the terminal and hoping not to alert the nearby Vandal.

Scanning it quickly, she determined they were on a Fallen skiff, probably House Dusk, judging from the purple fabric wrapped around the Vandal’s neck and the mixture of accents. Most of the communication systems were currently offline though, meaning she couldn’t immediately send out any sort of distress signal without possibly alerting the Fallen. The Ghost tried to remember where she’d been last—maybe Earth? Her most recent memories were… fuzzy.

A sizable chunk of her cores were encrypted with a key she didn’t immediately recognize. Perhaps they required external authorization? That would make things difficult. Additionally, her physical systems seemed to have taken some serious damage— _and_ to top it all off she didn’t even have a shell anymore.

She snuck another peek at her captor and was met by four eyes staring directly back at her.

«It works!» the Fallen exclaimed.

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Eliksni Translation **  
>  _variisis_ \- Unrelenting


	4. Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghost and the Vandal start to become… friends?

The condensed, circular light shining from the sphere reminded Iphkras of a singular eye, which followed her as she finished her work. It was like a Servitor, in a way. A very tiny Servitor. She trilled quietly at the comparison and looked up to find the Ghost was _glaring_ at her.

«Are you… angry with me?» She asked.

There was no response.

«Perhaps you are unable to speak—but your kind seems to communicate with the Revenants somehow…» she clicked her mandibles absentmindedly. «Is it audible speech, or through other means, hm? I should try to fix that next.»

_« … I can speak.»_

The Vandal’s eyes brightened with excitement. «You speak Eliksni!»

 _«Well»_ —the eye shifted around nervously— _«I didn’t use to. What did you do to me?»_

Iphkras tilted her head, confused. «Truthfully I am not certain, but I am glad for it. Now we will be able to speak easily.»

_“But what if I don’t want to talk to you?”_

«I cannot understand?»

_“Good.”_

There was no need to translate the vileness with which the Ghost spoke. Iphkras understood. The Vandal nodded her head curtly, and continued to pack up her tools.

«You may not wish to speak Eliksni, but unless you teach me»—she flexed her hands, grasping for a word—« _other_ language, then we can’t communicate. I do not mean you harm. I only want to ask you questions, to learn more.»

She tried to read the emotion coming from the little light. There wasn’t much to go on. Iphkras sighed and reached towards the sphere. It seemed to shrink away nervously from her hand.

«Come, I have built a new shell for you.»

* * *

The Ghost didn’t like traveling around in the Vandal’s pocket, but the promise of a shell was too appealing to resist. With a shell she might be able to travel around on her own—possibly even escape her wretched captors.

This one didn’t seem too bad though.

She was much better than the first Fallen she’d ever spoken to. At least this one hadn’t tried to crush her yet.

They passed others while traveling through the interconnected caverns of the Fallen lair—Dregs and Vandals, even a few Shanks—creeping about and preparing for Traveler-knows-what. The Ghost thought she even caught a glimpse of the Captain from before. She was beginning to recognise these chambers as ones she had scouted, though some slight changes made her wonder just how long she’d been asleep.

«We’re almost there,» her captor said quietly.

The Ghost wasn’t sure why the Vandal was acting so… secretive? But she didn’t question it. Not until she figured out what this Fallen was planning to do with her.

Deeper into the hold they traveled, both keeping quiet. Eventually, the corridor narrowed before opening into a slightly wider side room. The natural floor was rough, with rusty metal shelves lining the walls. They held all manner of electrical and mechanical equipment, parts, and scraps. A worn, wide table stood at the center of the room.

The Vandal set its bags down on the table, then scuttled to the shelves. Tucked behind a dented metal box was a rusty-looking spherical object with an aperture at its center—about the size of a Ghost. Setting it down on the table, the creature peered around the room before opening the bag containing the Ghost.

«We are safe here for now. If you permit me, I will handle you a moment, but only to set you inside the shell.»

_«Alright.»_

Though she initially didn’t like the thought of the Vandal _touching_ her, the Ghost was pleasantly surprised by how delicately she was handled during the process. She was reminded that she hadn’t had friendly contact with another being in while… Micah-10 came to mind briefly—she hadn’t thought about them in years.

«How does that feel? I couldn’t repair the original… but hopefully this is suitable.»

The sphere was designed to open easily, but still hold the core securely and provide protection. As the shell snapped into place, she wiggled a bit inside. It didn’t feel too heavy and was surprisingly well made despite its appearance.

The Ghost carefully lifted herself from off the table. She wasn’t floating as high as she would have liked, but maybe she was just tired. Her connection to the Light _was_ faint. Testing her capabilities, she made her way to the edge of the table—and soon experienced the sensation of falling.

The Vandal quickly reached out a secondary arm to catch the tumbling Ghost.

«You are like _kelekh._ Still wobbly,» it cautioned. «Perhaps you should practice a bit first.»

 _«I am perfectly fine, thank you… uh… »_ the Ghost’s voice trailed off, trying to remember its name. Hadn’t the Captain said it?

«My name is Iphkras,» she said, gesturing with a primary arm.

_«Ah, right. Iphkras.»_

«And you? Do you have a name?»

The Ghost looked at the Fallen suspiciously, unsure whether to answer truthfully.

_«I don’t remember.»_

* * *

Now that it was awake, Iphkras couldn’t help but continue to coax the Ghost into speaking with her. That it had a voice and personality was fascinating to her, though not completely unexpected. Stories and songs had lauded the Great Machine’s miracles—this little light was one of them.

At first the Ghost was wary, giving only short answers, but gradually warmed. She seemed to enjoy sharing her knowledge, and Iphkras was very curious.

«And the word for the small flying creatures—the tiny brown ones that sing?»

_«‘Birds’, generally, but probably more specifically, ‘sparrows’.»_

“Bords. Sparrovs.” She tried to mimic the Ghost, but had trouble pronouncing certain sounds. “Sparrowws.”

 _«That’s it!»_ the Ghost chirped.

The Vandal clasped both sets of hands together happily and chittered. The new words felt strange in her mouth, but she relished the unusual sounds and phrases. Iphkras knew that other Fallen had learned the language of the Revenants—and could probably speak it easily using a voice synth. She was certain the Captain must know at least some phrases. It showed in his responses to certain radio chatter they intercepted.

Perhaps knowing their language could improve her situation even further. 

Iphkras stood, deciding to give her newfound teacher a break by showing the little light some of the things she’d repaired—and made from scratch—that she was particularly proud of. The Ghost tried to hover around further in her new shell, but still seemed very weak. 

«Perhaps you are still recovering. You were quite damaged when I found you. I do not know how long you were… asleep?»

 _«I… can’t really tell either. And yes, I do feel weak.»_ The Ghost spun slightly to look at Iphkras. _«I feel like some of my Light has faded.»_

«Seems bright to me.» she pointed at the Ghost’s optical sensor.

_«Oh, no, a different kind of Light. Hmmm, how do I describe it? It’s well… from the Traveler.»_

«Traveler?»

_«The being that created me.»_

«Ah, I see. The Traveler—in Eliksni, it is called The Great Machine. I have heard of this gift before, but never knew there was a name for it.» 

The Ghost bobbed slightly. Iphkras wanted to ask so many more questions, but the Ghost seemed guarded about this topic—perhaps another time. «How do you say it? Their name?»

 _“Traveler,”_ she said, almost reverently.

“Tra-vel-er.”

* * *

Life amongst the Fallen was different from what the Ghost had first experienced.

While working on her tasks, Iphkras gossiped about her crewmates, telling stories of their exploits on the battlefield and funny moments during downtime. The Ghost listened attentively. With each story she realized they were not so different from humanity in some ways—she vaguely recalled that similar shenanigans occurred at the Tower. She also realized she’d never heard a Fallen laugh: a low, multi-toned trilling noise that was somewhat endearing.

Secretly the Ghost still wondered quietly about what Iphkras planned to do with her, though with time she’d begun to worry less. The other Fallen didn’t seem to know about her yet—she carefully remained hidden whenever one neared—and Iphkras was nice to be around. She was starting to feel safe with her. 

_«How did you become a Vandal?»_ the Ghost asked hesitantly one day.

Iphkras peered up from her work with a curious look. They were currently alone, save for the shank that seemed to follow Iphkras around like a small dog. As the silence stretched on the Ghost hoped she hadn’t asked something inappropriate. 

«I was lucky.» The Vandal eventually replied, setting aside her tools with a sigh. «I was a Dreg for many cycles, but I learned how to watch, to understand. Things break down and need repair, so I figured out how to mend what’s broken. This is the work of Splicers—there are not many of us left. My Captain saw this was… useful, needed. So my ether ration was increased, and I have not been docked in some time.»

_«Really? That Captain from earlier?»_

«No. The one who promoted me was killed during a raid some time ago. Now our crew has a different Captain, Arraksis. He is… a strong leader, but also harsh. Cruel. I suspect he doesn’t approve of me much.»

 _«Is that why you fixed me?»_ The Ghost whispered.

Iphkras glanced over at her, mandibles shifting with a nervous expression on her face. The implication weighed heavy in the air; several moments passed before the Vandal replied.

«Perhaps. But no, not entirely. Now that you are awake it’s different now. I like to think we are… friends, and I am worried about what the Captain would do with you. I do not plan on putting you in any danger.»

The Ghost was surprised and elated. _Friends._

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Eliksni Translations **  
>  _kelekh_ \- Child or little one
> 
> Hopefully the switching between character perspective isn't too confusing


	5. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iphkras is recruited for the next raid and the Ghost decides to join her

Though Iphkras was sometimes left to herself, focusing on repairs and building things for her crew—she often found herself assigned to particular excursions because of her skills. She was to be part of the crew’s next raid.

 _«Iphkras, maybe this time I could come with you?»_ The Ghost asked shyly, coming out from her hiding spot after the shank who delivered the order hovered away.

«Are you sure, little light? It will be dangerous.»

The Ghost bobbed excitedly.

 _«I’m sure it will be fine. I could hide in your bag… or your cowl!»_ She floated towards the Vandal and snuggled into the folds of fabric wrapped around her neck and shoulders.

«I suppose. We must be careful, though. No one must see you.»

A while later, armed with an arc spear and a bag of tools, Iphkras boarded the skiff with her crewmates—with the Ghost tucked into the folds of her cowl.

The plan for the mission was fairly straightforward: most of the crew would provide cover and a distraction while Iphkras and a handful of others infiltrated a recently discovered bunker thought to possibly contain useful technology. She’d learned from her new friend that this might be what was called “Golden Age” technology—advanced tech from before humanity’s collapse.

As the crew readied themselves, Captain Arraksis stalked around the skiff, looking over his subordinates with cold determination. It had been a while since Iphkras had been on a raid with the Captain. He was certainly magnificent—and terrifying—in his full armor.

The two made eye contact. Iphkras shrunk back slightly as he strode toward her, leaning in close.

«Find me something useful,» he threatened as a laugh rumbled in his throat. «Or else you’ll find yourself on less _interesting_ assignments.»

\- - -

Hours later, Iphkras found herself deep in the unexplored bunker—with a Ghoul following close behind. She cursed her bad luck, rounding a corner and sliding slightly on the wet concrete. The two remaining Dregs panted nervously alongside her.

The plan had worked wonderfully: Iphkras and her group successfully penetrated the locked doors and entered the bunker, while the Captain and majority of the crew fought off a squadron of Cabal who landed shortly after they had. Unfortunately, however, the crossfire eventually caught the attention of a passing Revenant. The warrior had slipped past the outside crew astonishingly easily—perhaps using some sort of cloaking technology.

Tekiks spotted them a moment too late, but the sound of his dying scream alerted the small interior crew that they were not alone.

Iphkras started running immediately. 

Sounds of gunfire and shrieks of pain reverberated within the bunker. She could feel the Ghost squirming to get a better look at the Ghoul, but the Vandal placed a protective hand over her friend as a stray bullet soared overhead.

The three remaining Fallen ran for their lives as death followed close behind.

Iphkras noticed an open door and bolted towards it, hissing at the others to follow her. But in their fervor they continued onwards—and she didn’t have time to wait. Glancing around desperately, she found the room filled with shelves and stacks of metal containers.

She hastily scrambled behind a buckled shelf, trying to quietly hide. Iphkras attempted to calm her breathing despite the surge of ether running through her system. Looking back, she cursed her folly. She’d left the door wide open. 

She could hear the pounding footsteps of her crewmates start to fade as they continued down the hallway—then a surprised howl.

«A dead end! It’s collapsed!» One of them screamed in frustration. 

«Then we must fight,» replied the other. She heard the sparking sounds of an arc blade activating. Iphkras could picture the desperation in their eyes, the determined resignation.

With a valiant howl that echoed down the corridor, she watched as they barreled past the open door, back towards certain death.

Several gunshots rang out, coupled with the shrieking release of ether, followed by stillness.

Iphkras tried to make herself small as a different set footsteps broke the silence. She closed her eyes tight for fear the Hunter would notice their glow through her helm.

Her breath hitched as it stepped into the room.

The Vandal could hear it pace briefly around before letting out a heavy breath. Iphkras cautiously opened her eyes to peer at the formidable creature. The warrior stood in the doorway—their back was to her. After a moment they shifted, dropping their weapon arm to the side and holding out the other palm. A Ghost appeared.

“Eidolon, what’s the deal?” the Revenant asked. The voice coming from the helm sounded annoyed. “I thought you said this would be a rescue mission.”

_“It’s strange. I definitely picked up readings of another Ghost around here.”_

“Well, I don’t see them anywhere, just a bunch of dead Fallen.”

Part of Iphkras wanted to jump from her hiding place and slay the monster where it stood—now was the perfect chance. She gripped her weapon tightly, feeling her pulse quicken, but then thought better of it. Throwing herself into battle would only get her killed, especially against an undying Revenant.

The warrior left the doorway to walk towards the dead-end, her Ghost trailing behind. They continued to converse quietly, saying something about a nearby cache.

_“They came for me.”_

Iphkras felt movement near her neck and remembered her small companion.

* * *

The Ghost was ecstatic—she hadn’t actively been trying to reach out, yet they had found her anyway.

 _“They’re here to rescue me!”_ she exclaimed, chirping happily and starting to float towards the door without much thought. Before she got much further, however, she was stopped midair, clutched tight by the scared Vandal.

Iphkras slowly retracted her arm inwards, turning the Ghost in her hand around to face her. She looked unsure of what to do.

«I… » she whispered. «I don’t want… please… »

They stared at each other for a moment, both equally confused and uncertain.

Lowering her head and sighing weakly, Iphkras eventually released the Ghost, shifting quietly to wrap both sets of arms around herself again. She gave the little light a small nod, then closed her eyes again.

«Goodbye, my friend.»

The Ghost floated free, finding herself at a loss for words. She had wanted to rush outside and leave with the Guardian and her Ghost. She could finally return to the City! She had so much to report, not to mention whatever her encrypted memory cores contained—this was her chance to finally escape! 

But seeing Iphkras huddled there, shaking with fear… she became unsure. This Fallen had saved her, even built her a new shell. They had become friends. The Ghost had never had one of those before. 

The Guardian’s footsteps drew closer.

The Ghost moved silently out of sight, still contemplating what to do.

They passed by the open doorway again while grumbling about the collapsed passage. The Ghost gazed at Iphkras. The Vandal hadn’t moved for fear of being noticed—and probably swiftly executed—by the Guardian. She pitied this poor Fallen, her new friend. But as she considered her options the Ghost realized she had yet another responsibility, one that couldn’t be locked behind an encryption. A task more important than a fleeting friendship or even the Vanguard. She still had to find her Chosen.

The Ghost quietly floated out of the room, hoping to catch up with the Hunter.

She passed by the fallen Dregs and wondered if Iphkras had ever gossiped about them. It was too bad they had to die… or did they? They were the enemy, right? It was all becoming very confusing.

She’d almost caught up to the Guardian, who was conversing with her Ghost while checking the other Fallen bodies for anything useful. The Ghost watched them for a moment—their affectionate and trustful interaction summoned up an old pain. The unconnected Ghost ached with a desire mostly forgotten.

She eventually collected herself and was about to call out to them when she felt a slight nudge. The Ghost whirled around expecting someone there. Nothing.

But that pull… what was it?

* * *

Iphkras listened and waited, her limbs growing sore from being so tightly confined. The initial ether rush had worn off and she felt slightly woozy. But she has to be sure… She hadn’t heard anything for a while; only a slight draft whistling and the drip of water from a pipe.

Perhaps it was finally safe.

As she slowly crawled out from her hiding spot, Iphkras noticed a bright light shining in her direction. She froze, locked in place with sudden fear—which dissipated when she recognized the familiar glow of her friend.

 _«Come on,»_ the Ghost said warmly, _«let’s see if there is anything to bring back to the Captain.»_

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tabris & Eidolon are my human Hunter main and her ghost—Thought it would be fun for them to make a brief appearance :P


	6. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While traveling back to the hold, the little light tells Iphkras of every Ghost’s destiny
> 
> [Content warning for violence]

Returning to the hold was a difficult—and uncomfortable—journey. 

By the time Iphkras and the Ghost exited the bunker, her crew was nowhere to be seen, save for the scorched and lifeless bodies of those who fell. The Vandal inspected these briefly, trying to recognize the remains. The Ghost watched respectfully. 

Iphkras scanned around for any other signs of movement—the battleground seemed to have been deserted long ago. A cool breeze cut through the still-warm twilight air.

«The reclaimers will come for these soon,» she said, gesturing to the bodies. «My _veskiri_ crewmates. It may be safer to wait here and return to the hold with them.»

As the sky began to darken several hours later, Iphkras eventually realized that no one was coming.

Surprise at this realization slowly shifted into frustration and disgust—Iphkras did not consider herself a devout individual, but the wrongness of leaving the dead to rot settled uncomfortably in her stomach. Iphkras let out a sharp hiss that startled the Ghost.

_«What’s wrong?»_

«This. _This_ is wrong. They should be here by now.»

Iphkras stood angrily. She checked her ether supply and calculated briefly; perhaps there would be enough. Hitching up her bag and letting out a rough series of clicks, Iphkras motioned to the Ghost and began trekking toward the direction of the hold. The little light silently followed.

When her simmering anger finally started to abate, Iphkras started thinking more about what happened in that bunker. 

«Today I was… lucky.» She started hesitantly. «Not many Fallen have seen a Revenant so close and lived to speak of it.»

Iphkras looked over to the Ghost hovering alongside her.

«You wanted to go with them. At first, I did not want you to leave—I am still sorry I grabbed you so suddenly. I was confused. But I realized—they are _your_ people. It wasn’t right for me to force you to stay. And yet you returned… Why?»

It was some time before the Ghost replied.

_«I’m not… sure.»_

They walked for a time in silence. Iphkras noticed the Ghost begin to sink lower as they traveled, as if becoming weary. She offered to carry her friend, who eventually bobbed in consent and floated over to the Vandal. Iphkras tucked the Ghost safely into her cowl and continued.

In the last light of day, they crested a small hill dotted with tiny wildflowers. The Vandal gasped with excitement, reaching down to pluck one from the soil. She showed it to the Ghost and chittered happily.

«Sometimes, when I see these plants, I wonder if our homeworld had them… Perhaps they were similar colors as well?» she said, fondly stowing the yellow flower in a small bag at her side.

_“Flowers. They’re called flowers.”_

“Ah… Flowwwers.”

* * *

* * *

The Ghost spent most of the journey thinking. Primarily she debated how much to tell Iphkras, this Fallen companion she found herself inextricably drawn back to. Members of the spectral network were cautioned not to reveal anything about themselves, the Guardians, or even the Traveler if captured, but the two friends had already discussed aspects of that. 

And, the Ghost thought guiltily, she wasn’t captured—she had returned willingly.

 _«I… said I wasn’t sure earlier,»_ she started. _«But that’s not completely true. I came back because I felt that… you would lead me to my Chosen.»_

«Lead? I don’t understand.»

_«When we were… created, Ghosts were given a purpose—a drive to find the person we’re meant to share our Light with. I’ve been searching for many years for my Chosen, even traveled to other planets. But the universe is large, and… I lost hope. So I found other ways to be useful. But seeing that Guardian and her Ghost today—it reminded me of what I should be doing.»_

«I see,» the Vandal replied, scratching behind her neck. «And you said I would… lead you?»

She considered the pull she had felt, how to describe it— _«I don’t know how, exactly, but yes. It felt like a nudge, a feeling that I should stay with you.»_

The Vandal seemed to consider this as they crested another hill overlooking a river, one that twisted and bent as it flowed down into the valley behind them. They were getting closer to the hold. She looked up at the night sky, which glimmered with tiny, beautiful stars.

«It is an honorable thing, this journey,» Iphkras eventually replied. «Though I am but a Vandal, I will do what I can to help you, little light. Perhaps it will be difficult, but all the better. Perhaps we are meant to pass through fire, so that we may be refined.»

The Ghost felt warmth and truth in that statement.

* * *

Several hours later they reached the entrance to the hold—a rusted iron gate, hidden behind dense foliage, partially hanging off what remained of its hinges. Iphkras signaled weakly to the cloaked sentries as she removed her helm.

«You made it! You’re alive!» they chittered.

« _Eia_ , though I’m in need of ether. Where is Captain Arraksis?»

An uncloaked Dreg ran ahead to find the Captain while Iphkras slowly made her way into the hold.

The Vandal hadn’t wanted to alarm her little friend, but the journey had been more taxing than Iphkras would have liked. Shortly after crossing the river, a small Cabal patrol had noticed Iphkras and opened fire. She’d been forced to double her flow of ether, temporarily enhancing and strengthening her body to avoid the shots.

They had escaped, but consequently Iphkras was now struggling against a severely reduced flow of ether, which made her lethargic. She wouldn’t die—but collapsing was entirely possible.

The concrete and iron tunnel opened into a large cave: lights in various corners illuminated the space, several large banners hung from the ceiling, and crewmates were scattered about performing their various responsibilities. Several stopped when they noticed Iphkras, eyes bright with surprise. One Vandal, Neksis, started making his way towards her with a wave—but stopped short.

«Iphkras… you _survived,_ » came a deep voice to her left.

Captain Arraksis approached the tired Vandal slowly, a curious look in his bright eyes. «I’ve been told you need more ether as well. Tell me, how did you survive the Light-thief?»

Iphkras could see the canister of ether he held in his secondary hands, almost dangling it in front of her. She felt like they were playing a game, though she couldn’t tell what he wanted from her.

«Well,» she started, «I became… separated from the rest of the crew when it attacked us. Those doors—sometimes they lock unexpectedly. I couldn’t fight; couldn’t leave. Later, I returned to the surface… and found only our dead.»

The Captain didn’t reply, but tilted his head questioningly and narrowed his eyes. Iphkras steeled herself before continuing—she was so very tired, but recalling the sight of her dead crewmates began to fill her with a determination colder than ether.

«So I waited. For the reclaimers to come for them—to give them the proper burial.» She gave her Captain a fierce look. «But no one came.»

Silence filled the space as the unspoken accusation hung between them.

She took a breath to continue but was cut off as something struck her, slamming into the side of her head and knocking her to the ground. Her vision swam for a moment and she looked up to see the Captain now standing over her with a menacing growl.

«You dare question my leadership?»

She could only wheeze as he stepped on her chest, threatening to crush it under his massive weight.

«I now realize that you don’t deserve your current position, Iphkras.» He sneered, looming over the squirming Vandal. «I will remind you of the consequences of speaking against your leaders.»

The Captain drew one of his blades with a flourish and waved it slowly in front of her face. Iphkras knew only too well what was coming next—but the defiant spark didn’t want to give him the enjoyment he craved by appearing scared. She quietly hissed through quivering mandibles and steeled herself.

With a flash the blade came down on her lower arm, severing it instantly. A harsh gasp escaped her, followed by a spray of blood and ether. Before she could prepare herself the sword slashed again, removing her other lower arm effortlessly. Pain wracked her body and she tried to pull into herself but was still pinned. Arrakis was breathing heavily, his helm splashed with flecks of her blood and a fearsome satisfaction in his glowing eyes.

She glared back, trying to ignore the pain in her extremities until she briefly lost consciousness. Iphkras awoke moments later to the sound of the Captain’s voice echoing through the hold.

«Iphkras has lost her honor, becoming Dreg once more.»

He threw her a final glance and then strode away, leaving Iphkras behind in a pool of blood, ether, and shame.

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Eliksni Translations **  
>  _veskiri_ \- dead, lifeless  
>  _eia_ \- yes, agreement
> 
> I made [an illustration](https://mojohdraws.tumblr.com/post/622673896719745024/wanted-to-illustrate-a-scene-as-a-way-to-practice) of their journey back to the hold


	7. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iphkras and the Ghost leave the hold in search of the Shard of the Traveler.
> 
> [Content warning for violence]

_«You can’t stay here, that psychopath is going to kill you!»_ The Ghost exclaimed, worriedly floating around her friend.

Iphkras—with help from Neksis—was recovering in the den, still somewhat in shock from the unexpected docking. The Vandal didn’t stay with her long though, saying something about another excursion. She slowly breathed in the ether-infused air while carefully wrapping her lower stumps with bandages. Arraksis had been cruel in leaving the blades unactivated—no cauterization to staunch the blood.

The newly-made Dreg considered her next steps while wrapping, trying to ignore the dull pain radiating from her lost limbs and the heaviness in her heart.

«Where would I go? As soon as it was discovered, Arraksis would have me marked as a deserter. I don’t know of any crews who would accept me. Once there was a House for… outcasts, but they either unified with ours long ago or are dead.»

Though thinking about it more, she did remember hearing whispers about a certain not-Kell—a Spider on an asteroid who accepted all sorts to his crew. But going there would require a ship. 

«I would also need an extra supply of ether to heal…»

She tied off the bandages and began slowly removing her blood-stained armor. Placing it aside she eventually fell back with a groan. The Ghost looked at her thoughtfully, concern brimming in her voice as she said, _«We’ll figure something out. Please, you should probably just rest for now.»_

Iphkras didn’t need much encouragement as she closed her eyes wearily.

* * *

The Ghost watched her sleeping companion, trying to think of something, _anything._ That Captain had it out for Iphkras, and if they were supposed to find her Chosen together, they would need to leave.

But where could they go? 

Though she had gotten used to this new shell, the Ghost knew her connection to the Light wasn’t the same as before. It was dimmer, which limited her capabilities. She’d been unable to contact any outside networks despite a few secret attempts to do so when she first awoke—she was starting to think that the Guardian almost finding her must have been a fluke.

She scanned through her available memory cores again—surely there must be _something_. Eventually the search snagged on a partial memory, just a fragment of a conversation. She didn’t understand why this stood out.

An Awoken woman, her hands steepled in thought but her name unfortunately lost to the encryption. They were discussing something in the forest, something that was making things twisted and corrupted. It was because of the shard—the woman had said—her lavender eyes glowing as they spoke. A piece of the Traveler that had been cast off long ago… but where perhaps some Light remained.

The Ghost searched again.

Another mention of a shard, this time from a mostly redacted report about a Guardian who regained their Light shortly after the attack on the City, when the Traveler was still caged by the Red Legion. Were these connected?

The Ghost looked back toward her friend and wondered. If it worked for them, maybe it could work for her. Maybe there was still Light there.

\- - -

Later, when Iphkras had awoken, the Ghost shared her idea.

_«—and so if we found the shard, maybe my Light will return. Then I’ll be able to contact the Vanguard, or another Guardian. They could help us!»_

The Dreg seemed to consider this plan, her mandibles clicking softly. «So this Reve—Guardian… She and her Ghost were without the Light? But it was restored by going to this shard?»

The Ghost nodded.

«I think, perhaps, I’ve been there once—this place with the shard.»

_«That’s perfect! Do you remember the way to it?»_

« _Nama_. Though navigating won’t be too difficult,» the Dreg answered. «It’s possible to see it from certain areas. I remember it was… strange to be near. There was another hold close to it for a time, but eventually it was abandoned I think.»

Iphkras stood, rising from the nest to stretch and check the bandages on her stumps.

«Looks like we have another journey ahead of us, little light. Though I will need to collect some supplies first. And you must hide before anyone comes near.»

* * *

Once the Ghost was stored safely inside her bag, Iphkras donned her armor once again and made her way towards another part of the hold. She knew she probably didn’t have much time—she had slept for a good portion of the day, and though it seemed that the crew was busy with another raid, they could return at any moment.

The Dreg had several spent canisters of ether that she hoped to exchange for full ones—she expected that some were tucked away in Captain’s nest. Iphkras was about to explain this to her friend but stopped when a low whirring hum began to sound.

 _«What’s that noise?»_ She heard the Ghost whisper nervously.

Iphkras became very still. As the hum grew louder she turned around slowly to face the glowing, purple eye of the Servitor. The Dreg bowed her head low in respect as it approached her. Feeling the Ghost in her bag begin to stir, she placed a hand there reassuringly.

«It is alright. Be still.» She said quietly before turning her attention back to the machine. 

A deep groan emanated from the Servitor, a heavy vibration that traveled through her entire body. Slowly words began to form in her mind.

|| You are docked ||

Iphkras averted her eyes and she nodded, unable to speak. The Servitor continued.

|| But the cause was not just ||

|| … ||

|| I give you my blessing ||

The Servitor began to glow with a purple light that licked like flames along the smooth sides of its surface before extending outward to envelop them both. Iphkras let out a soft, surprised gasp—bright, concentrated ether soon surrounded her and the wounds on her lower arms became uncomfortably cold. 

Moments, hours, an eternity later, the world became dim. The Dreg fell to her knees with a shiver and looked up at the Servitor with wide eyes. It rumbled once more.

|| Grow strong ||

Then it left, as enigmatically as it had appeared.

 _«What just happened?»_ The Ghost asked. _«Are you alright?»_

«It has given me a gift,» she answered eventually, the words catching in her throat. Carefully she removed the bandages from her lower arms—the open gashes had mostly sealed, though the flesh there was still tender.

A blessing indeed.

\- - -

Soon the Dreg and the Ghost were making their way northward, having easily avoided the rest of her crew thanks to the cloaking device she scavenged.

Eventually they reached a sheer cliff-face which Iphkras gazed at longingly. She imagined that she could have scaled the rock wall easily if she still had her lower arms intact. Best take another path. In the distance, they could see the shard—a curving, towering form rising above the treeline. A heavy fog surrounded the area, despite the bright sunlight beaming down.

She adjusted her helm and double-checked the device nervously. It had perhaps another _dek_ or _el_ sols worth of invisibility, especially if she used it sparingly. She also figured she could make the supply of ether—the other gift, discovered later—last quite a while before the rationed amount would begin to take its toll.

Iphkras had been shaken by her encounter with the Servitor. It was not often that it spoke to her directly like that, and she knew that not many were able to understand its words so clearly. She took it as a good sign—perhaps it would all work out.

The fog grew steadily thicker as they passed through a gaping tunnel scattered with rocks and rusted-out vehicles. Bits of roots hung from cracks in the rounded ceiling.

Mist swirled around the pair as they journeyed deeper toward the shard. The world took on a strange, pale-blue tint as light attempted to filter through the thick shroud. Decayed trees rose ominously through the fog before being swallowed up once more, their twisted branches were like reaching arms.

Iphras recognized the same feeling of nervousness she’d experienced the first time her crew had come near the wreckage. Something about this place made her uneasy, but her friend seemed to become more animated with anticipation.

_«Can you feel that, Iphkras?»_

«I can certainly feel something, though I think it might be different for you, my friend.»

The Ghost floated away from her hiding spot—Iphkras unconsciously held out a hand for her to perch on. She glanced at the Dreg before turning back toward the shard.

_«It feels almost like… home.»_

* * *

It was so close, she could almost feel its warmth. The Ghost could hardly contain herself as they drew nearer—she hadn’t realized how cold she had been without her full connection to the Light.

Up close, she could see where the touch of Darkness had shattered the Traveler. It clung in places like an infestation, writhing and black. She recalled that memory of the Awoken woman. She had surmised that presence of these opposites must have been what caused the area to become twisted and deformed, and the Ghost could see that clearly.

It was also probably why Iphkras seemed so unsettled.

 _«Don’t worry,»_ the Ghost said cheerfully, _«I don’t think we’ll have to stay here long.»_

«That is good. This feeling is strange.»

The Ghost bobbed and turned back towards the shard.

«What… what will you do?» the Dreg asked, «What needs to be done?»

_«I think—I think I have to touch it.»_

Iphkras gave a wary look, but pushed closer without protest. The trees thinned, creating a glen surrounding a piece of the wreckage. They passed several rocks floating strangely—perhaps thrown into the air when the massive shard collided with the ground—held in place by gravic fluctuations. They could also see the remains of a Fallen camp nearby, obviously deserted long ago.

The brilliant white metal of the shard was pockmarked with swaths of black and blue that shifted sickeningly in the dim light. Iphkras carefully avoided the discolorations, walking towards an unmarred section. She stopped a few paces short of it.

Taking her cue, the Ghost floated away from the Dreg, but looked back before reaching it.

 _«See you soon!»_ she chirped.

Iphkras waved slightly. The Ghost twisted around and pressed up against the metal. A moment later she phased into it, becoming connected to the Light once more.

* * *

The Ghost disappeared into the shard, and Iphkras heard a familiar voice behind her.

«I knew there was something… _different_ about you.»

The Dreg turned around fearfully—not far beyond, waiting ominously just outside the treeline, stood the hulking form of Captain Arraksis. A pitiful shank beeped mournfully at his side, several gashes across its metal chassis.

The Captain stepped forward, drawing his swords menacingly.

«I wondered… How could a weakling like you escape the clutches of a Ghoul? You begged, didn’t you? Pleaded for your life like a worthless piece of filth,» he sneered, activating the blades. «How long have you been hiding that Ghost from me?»

Her first instinct was to scream, to run away and hide—but instead Iphkras carefully set down her bag and adjusted her hold on the spear. Its blade crackled to life and the current caused her still-healing limbs to throb dully.

«You, a _drekh,_ dare to draw on your Captain?» he barked.

«Only to protect myself.»

«Is that so? Tell me then, what did you promise to the Light-thief? What sniveling words did you say to protect yourself?»

« _Nama!_ I didn’t promise anything,» she said, starting to back away from the shard, trying to keep some space between herself and Arraksis. «I… I hid. I crawled somewhere safe—and survived.»

He chuckled at this, continuing to close the distance with determined steps.

«Then you are both a traitor and honorless, a disgrace to your people. I should have docked your head from your shoulders.»

Though she’d been expecting it, the Dreg was still surprised at the speed with which he bounded towards her. Iphkras yelped and held up her spear to parry his blows, then jumped aside as another swing landed heavily where she’d been standing.

The Captain bellowed, slashing at her with both blades, the air sizzling with arc current.

She managed to jump outside his reach, tumbling wildly into the mud but leaving her spear behind as it caught on the uneven ground. Iphkras quickly threw a small device in his direction, which split apart to release a cloud of smoke that obscured part of the glen.

Activating her cloaking, Iphkras crouched invisibly and began to circle quietly. She listened intently, trying to sense his next move. Ether raced through her veins, improving her senses and reflexes. It had made her barely quick enough to survive his attacks, but for how long?

She eventually made her way back towards her dropped spear. The smoke was beginning to disperse—but she couldn’t see the Captain anywhere.

As she nervously reached for the weapon, a leg came plunging out of nowhere, colliding with her arm. She shrieked as it twisted unnaturally, pain ripping through her whole body. Iphkras rolled backward, barely escaping the electrified blade swinging down towards her as the cloaking deactivated. The blade shattered her spear, fracturing it into pieces with a shower of sparks.

Arraksis turned toward her with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

Cradling her broken arm to her chest, Iphkras hastily scrambled up the side of a nearby tree, grasping at its twisted branches with her remaining good arm. A spray of fragments showered her as the blades whipped towards her, striking the decayed wood.

Iphkras glanced around desperately, trying to formulate a plan of escape.

Pulling out a small dagger, she prepared herself. Arraksis crouched low, ready to leap into the air when suddenly the shank plowed into the side of his head, catching him off-guard. Iphkras lept, pushing off his large back like a springboard. His frustrated roar was deafening as she sprinted away.

A mechanical shriek rent the air, instantly telling her what happened to the poor shank. In the short moments it had bought her she frantically began to scale the shard itself in an effort to get to higher ground, to escape the brutal force she couldn’t hope to beat.

But his powerful hand caught her foot, pulling her down roughly as another slammed her against the wall. Disoriented, she spun to face the Captain, who grabbed her throat and forcefully lifted her off the ground.

«This is where you die, filthy wretch,» he snarled, his grip tightening with murderous resolve.

Her strength failing, Iphkras swung at him with her dagger. By sheer luck the small blade slipped through his visor and caught one of his eyes. He roared with pain but didn’t drop her as she’d hoped. Instead, he reared back, and with a quick movement thrust a sword deep into the Dreg’s chest.

Iphkras screamed. The arc current burned through her body, followed by silence.

The Captain eyed at the dead Dreg, breathing heavily. Blood from his ruined eye coursed down the side of his face, staining his mantle. Eventually, he pulled the sword away; the body dropped lifelessly to the ground. Arraksis ripped the purple, now blood-soaked cowl away from it—a traitor did not deserve to wear the House colors, even in death.

His work finished, he stalked away without a sound.

-:-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Eliksni Translations **  
>  _nama_ \- no  
>  _drekh_ \- puppy, welp  
>  _dek_ \- ten  
>  _el_ \- eleven
> 
> My headcanon is that Eliksni use a dozenal/duodecimal system of counting—they have six limbs and twelve fingers, it just makes sense!


	8. Epilogue // Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wren mourns for her friend—and has a realization.
> 
> [Content warning for the aftermath of violence]

The Ghost eventually returned, and everything was finally right.

She swiveled around, searching for her friend. She wasn’t actually sure how long she’d been with the Traveler—basking in the glorious warmth and becoming whole once more had been all at once wonderful and overwhelming—but it couldn’t have taken that long. Wren was so excited to tell Iphkras her name, and to thank her for bringing them here.

As she glanced around the glen, she sensed something was _wrong_. She noticed a dark, reddish purple streak along the side of the shard. A body slumped against it. Wren gasped.

 _Iphkras_. No, it couldn’t be...

The Ghost floated over to the lifeless body of her friend. The Dreg was propped up against the shard, her arms hanging at her sides. One looked broken, bent at a painful angle; the bandages on her docked arms now soaked with blood. Thin tendrils of ether swirled into the air, escaping from the gaping wound in her chest, thick with blood that was beginning to dry. Wren could see signs of a struggle—Iphkras had put up a fight—but it hadn’t been enough.

A small, bloody knife lay on the ground next to her, the shattered spear further away. Heavy tracks in the mud, footprints of that Captain who must have followed them; the mangled corpse of a shank. All signs of fighting, where the smaller, injured Dreg had been overpowered.

Where she struggled and died alone.

 _«I’m sorry,»_ the Ghost said quietly. _«This... is my fault. You risked and gave up so much for me, yet I wasn’t even there when... when...»_

Wren wished she could snuggle up close and hide within the Dreg’s cowl as she had done so many times before—but it was missing. Whoever killed her must have taken it. Iphkras looked so cold and vulnerable without it. Wren wished she could cry.

 _«I’m sorry.»_ she repeated, nestling into an open palm. _«I’m sorry...»_

The mournful Ghost was overcome by waves of sadness, waves crushingly dark in comparison to the ecstatic light she’d felt only moments before. She had forgotten how fleeting mortality really was. 

Time passed. The body grew colder.

Somewhere in that swell of sorrow, Wren began to sense something new. Was it new? She focused on it—a pull, a tug. A nudge she had felt once before.

_Perhaps we are meant to pass through fire, so that we may be refined._

The Ghost sprang into the air, overwhelmed by the possibility. No, not possible. _Destined_. Wren was certain. She didn’t care if Eliksni Guardians were unheard of. After so many years of searching, hoping, and questioning whether she would ever find her Chosen... The irony was that they’d already found each other.

_“Thank you, Traveler. I promise she will wield your Light well.”_

A brightness filled the space as Wren initiated the instinctual process of reviving. She split apart like a blooming flower, directing currents of Light into the body. 

Motes of brilliance infused every molecule, restoring what was shattered and docked. 

Each wound knitted into wholeness.

Warmth and life and breath and being returned.

As her form condensed, Wren wondered if Iphkras would remember anything of their time together, if she would even remember her own name. Most Guardians couldn’t. But when she saw her friend— _her Chosen_ —finally stirring, it didn’t matter.

* * *

The Risen gasped as she opened both sets of eyes, the world before her a dark blur of shapes and colors and confusion. Her limbs tingled and her head swam. 

_«Guardian?»_

The Vandal looked toward the sound; she recognised this noise, this language. Eventually the world began to take shape. A floating metallic orb hovered near her head, a single blue light illuminating its core like an eye. It was watching her. She knew this thing somehow.

_«How do you feel? Can you understand me?»_

Her reply was hoarse. «Eia.»

 _«I don’t know how much you remember, so I guess I should do this properly. I’m a Ghost, well, actually I’m_ your _Ghost,»_ the orb said with a chirp. _«You… you were dead, but because I’m your Ghost I can bring you back!»_

The Vandal processed this thoughtfully—she _knew_ this Ghost was familiar, but could not remember why or how. Feeling eventually returned to both sets of hands and she flexed them experimentally. _What was docked had been returned_ , she thought absently. The Risen looked back up at her Ghost.

«Why don’t I… remember… my name?»

 _«Ah, I wondered about that. I’ve heard that_ most _Guardians can’t remember anything about their previous lives, even their name. I know what it was though, and can tell you if you’d like»_ —she paused for a moment. The Vandal realized the little drone was waiting for consent and she nodded— _«Your name_ was _Iphkras.»_

«Iphkras.»

She considered it, letting the name roll around her mouth as she repeated it several times to herself. It felt familiar, but also uncomfortable. The shape of it was wrong somehow.

«Thank you,» she said to the Ghost, its optics glowing brighter in response. «But this name doesn’t feel… right. It’s hard to describe, but that one is not me, doesn’t fit anymore. Perhaps I will find the right one in time. What did you call me earlier?»

_«Guardian?»_

«Yes. Please call me that for now. Do _you_ have a name?»

_«I have a name, but maybe… maybe I can just go without one until you have one too.»_

Once she was able to stand, the Ghost suggested that the two of them search the nearby deserted camp for anything useful. They found the Vandal’s bag, which contained tools, a few small devices she didn’t immediately recognize, and several canisters filled with a cold, sloshing substance. She pulled one out and her partially remembering mind recognized it as ether.

«Do I still need ether to survive?» she asked her companion, somehow knowing that fact.

_«I’m not sure… Perhaps you won’t need it, but I’m sure consuming it wouldn’t hurt either.»_

The Vandal nodded, satisfied with the answer for now. She tucked the canister into her bag before leaning down to sift through the remains of the camp. There wasn’t much else to be found, save for a small bloody knife, a ravaged drone, and the broken remnants of a spear.

_«I don’t think there’s anything we can do about the shank, poor thing.»_

The Vandal placed a hand on the remains solemnly. She felt a mixture of sorrow and gratefulness—but could not recall why.

«I think you are right… This blade still seems to be intact though. But it will need a new shaft.»

_«I might be able to help with that… hang on.»_

The Ghost flew over to some salvage, her optic brightening as she scanned and started extracting the materials. The Eliksni watched with interest as the pieces dematerialized—then began to reform into a long, straight metal rod. She trilled happily.

«My friend, that is very useful!»

She reached out to catch the rod from the air as the Ghost finished, feeling its weight and marveling at her small companion’s abilities. She placed it with the rest of the parts and set to work. The tools felt comfortable in her hands and instinct began to take over, her mind knowing which circuits and wires to reconnect.

 _«See, you’re great at this!»_ the Ghost chirped with excitement as the spear eventually crackled to life.

The Vandal was pleased with her work, even though she still wasn’t quite sure how she’d known what needed to be done. She thoughtfully looked at her hands before peering up at her Ghost.

«I’m sorry I do not recall much about before… about us.»

The Ghost turned towards her, optic glowing softly. The Vandal felt a warm, comforting presence touching her mind. _Don’t worry_ , she felt rather than heard the reply, _we can make new memories_.

--:--

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hoped you liked this little story! I might do more fics in the future with these two, now that my Eliksni daughter is a Risen >:)
> 
> Thanks so much to [Lúthien](https://tuulikki.tumblr.com/), [Naomi](https://shinobutou.tumblr.com/), and [tryvyalsynnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trivialsins) for being my beta readers—I learned so much through this process because of them!
> 
> **UPDATE: The direct sequel to this fic is "[Chosen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964563)"—"Unbroken" is a psedo-sequel that takes place before/during this story and "Chosen"


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